To Quit
by Generic Chimera
Summary: There are thoughts and visitors and surprises in store for everyone. repost due to my own account


Disclaimer: Matt Hardy…I want for Christmas, since my birthday was the day before yesterday. Christian can be next year, Jeff the year after that, and Edge the year after that. Regal'll get dumped by the side of the road.  
Time: First Smackdown! after No Way Out 2002, second Raw after No Way Out 2002.  
Summary: There are thoughts and visitors and surprises in store for everyone.

Notes: My friend Dingo originally posted this under her name, but since I got my own account I re-edited it slightly.  
  
  
  
   "Well, I'll go one better. As of this moment, I quit!"  
   Christian couldn't believe the words that came out of his own mouth. Him, quitting? Quit? Resign? Give up? Leave permanently?  
   _Note to self: hanging around Austin is now making you nuts._  
   He rolled out of the ring, his head still pounding from the meeting with the floor after the spear from his brother.  
   _Fucking hell, wrestling's the only thing I'm good at! What am I going to do now?_  
   Limping up the aisle towards the changing rooms, one thought ran through his head.  
   _Edge, you are now King of the Ring._  
  
  
   Edge stared at the monitor. In his own dressing room, he couldn't believe the words that came out of his younger brother's mouth.  
   "…I quit!"  
   This coming from the kid who had asked thousands of times for his brother 'not to hold back' and who had spilt galleons of blood on the ring.  
   "No," he whispered, pulling on his hair. "No, no, no, no!" He picked up the nearest chair and threw it at the floor, effectively breaking a leg off. "He can't quit," Edge whispered. "He just can't."  
   _Christ, Christian…you son of a bitch, who's going to be with me now?_  
  
  
   Matt and Jeff Hardy stood aghast in their room, staring at the monitor as if Jim Ross had just said he was going to get a sex change and join the Godfather's ho train, or if it suddenly had an image of Jeff saying he was staying one hair colour permanently.  
   "Jesus," Jeff whispered. "Christian's quit?"  
   "Looks like it," Matt confirmed weakly. Christian had been mostly an enemy, and probably always would be…but they respected him way too much, and knew him too well to really believe that he was quitting, and on the rare occasions he was an ally, they knew until he was killed, knocked out or disqualified, the man never stopped coming back for more.  
   "God, what the hell's happened to him?" Lita asked, making the Hardy Boyz turn to look at her. She was leaning against the doorframe, and by the look on her face Matt could tell she couldn't believe it either. "Christian's quit…how the hell did this happen?"  
   Matt looked sourly at the screen, which now showed the next match.  
   _I bet Christian doesn't know how this happened, either._  
  
  
   Ric Flair looked skeptically at the young woman in front of him. "Are you sure you can manage this?" he questioned.  
   She nodded. "All I need is information, and you get what you need…and what I want."  
   Ric leaned back in his chair. "So you'll be a blast from the past?" he asked, smiling slightly.  
   "You could say that." The woman nodded her blond head. "Do we have a deal?"  
   Ric took her outstretched hand in his. "Of course we do."  
   "There's one more thing I have to ask for, though…" She let her voice trail off.  
   "What?"  
   She smiled at him a tad devilishly. "You got the old music entrances around?"  
  
  
   "Well King, the NWO has definitely made a mark…what do you think Ric Flair's thinking about?" Jim Ross asked.  
   "JR, I have no idea. Micheal Cole tried to get an interview with Flair, but this is all he got out of him," Jerry 'The King' Lawler said as a picture of Cole and Flair came up, standing outside Flair's office.  
   "Ric Flair, what are your thoughts on what the NWO has done to the WWF so far in this week?" Cole questioned.  
   "Micheal, I feel that the NWO got some of their own medicine on Smackdown!, when Stone Cold took it right to Scott Hall.    But tonight…oh, tonight Micheal, I'm not going to be worrying about the NWO…tonight, is a night for two Superstars, and a very special friend of mine…and that I know for a fact. Wooooooooooo!" Flair turned and walked straight into his office, with Cole looking after him with an expression of bewilderment.  
  
  
   "You think you know me…" blared out of the speakers, and the crowd cheered, presuming it would be Edge coming out to perhaps try to take back the Intercontinental Championship belt from Regal.  
   "But JR, something's wrong!" King squawked. "This isn't Edge!"  
   In fact, it was the same entrance as Edge and Christian, back in the tag- team days. "You're lost…and scared…"  
   "There's someone coming JR, look!" King got out, pointing.  
   There was indeed someone coming, someone with a mane of blond hair. As the lights returned to normal, everyone could see that this definitely was not Edge…unless there had been a little mix-up somewhere, and Edge was really a female.  
   Because the figure definitely was female. As she turned in a circle, gazing at the whole crowd, everyone could see that her hair, which at its longest point was at the small of her back, was cut in an upside-down triangle, and the triangle shape was dyed a dark green/blue. No piece of skin showed below her neck, courtesy of a stretchy black long sleeve shirt, black gloves and black leather pants, the exact same style of Edge's, the only colour in her outfit a green flame licking at her ankles. She reached for a microphone, and utterly surprised the cameraman who did by mouthing thank-you.  
   "You think you know me…" she spoke into the mike, and the audience responded with a small, confused pop. She laughed.      "No you don't, 'cause none of you know me. Not even JR or King down there," she said, motioning to the announce table where everyone could plainly see the bemused expressions on the two announcers' faces. She sat down in the ring, leaning against the ropes, back to JR and King. "I'm a friend of Ric Flair's but believe me, if any of Vancie Mac's goons come down to 'talk', I'll beat your sorry asses into the ground." The audience cheered.  
   "Now, down to business. I'm not here for the NWO, although if they do come down they're in trouble. I'm not here for the little feud between Nash, Hogan, Hall and Stone Cold Steve Austin, no…although I like to watch the three of them get their asses handed to them." The crowd cheered. "I'm here for a totally different reason." She sat silent for a few moments, long enough for the crowd to start moving impatiently. "I'm here because there's a problem in the WWF. Not the NWO, a smaller problem, but a problem nonetheless. Now, the two Superstars Ric mention-"  
   "You think you know me…"  
   Edge appeared at the top of the stage, lacking his black cape. He cut the music with a wave of his hand, and raised the microphone to his lips. "Just hurry up and get out, Lilla!"  
   The woman looked mildly ticked. "It's LILKA! Jesus, Edge, over twenty freaking years and you still don't know my name!"  
   Edge suddenly looked tired, walking down to the ring. "Look, Lil, I've had a long and horrible day. Just get whatever you have to do over and done with, alright?"  
   Lilka looked sympathetic. "It'll be quick, I promise," she told him. An evil grin crept onto her face. "Actually, this sort-of concerns you…and little bro."  
   "What does this have to d with that son-of-a-bitch?" Edge questioned.  
   She frowned. "Now that's no way to talk about our mother, is it bro?" she questioned, and smiled as the audience roared at the sudden twist. "Christian quit. Yes, he was on a losing streak, yes, occasionally that got to him, but I know he didn't want to quit. I also know that he's here tonight, so Christian, get your lily-white Canadian ass out here!"  
   Moments passed. "Come on Chrissie," Lilka coaxed. "It'll be five minutes, max."  
  
  
   Matt Hardy watched, a feeling of rightness going through him. Christian, you'd better get your butt out there, he thought. He quickly glanced at the clock. Two minutes since she had first called Christian out. He swiftly got up and practically sprang through the door.  
   If you aren't going out there on your own, he thought. Then I s'pose you need a little Xtreme help.  
  
  
   Christian watched as his little sister and big brother stood in the ring…well, Edge pacing and Lilka still sitting in the same place. _I can't go out there_, he mentally panicked. "I can't go out there," he said out loud, as if to convince himself.  
   "I don't care if you can't," a deep but soft voice said from behind him. Christian froze, looking upwards into the shiny steel above the screen. Matt Hardy's features looked back. "I don't care if you won't."  
  
  
   Lilka raised an eyebrow as she glanced at her watch. "Four minutes and counting, big bro," she said, still sitting comfortably.    "Hide and seek's over, Chrissie, you can come out now…"  
   The quick instrumental music of the Hardy Boyz started playing, and Edge's trademark psychotic grin came back. "Hardy Boyz, right now I'm very pissed off. Don't tempt me," he warned in a singsong voice.  
   "Wouldn't dream of it, Edge," Matt Hardy said over the PA system, still out of sight. Suddenly Christian's music started, and the accompaniment went up on the screens.  
   Christian walked out, although slowly, and he kept glancing back. Matt Hardy then stepped out, and the crowd gave an amazed roar of approval. Matt Hardy roughly shoved Christian towards the ring, and Edge didn't fail to notice that Christian was wearing one of the old Edge and Christian tag-team shirts. Christian doubtfully rolled under the bottom rope, Matt Hardy having to give him a push. Matt Hardy went up to the apron and bounced, using his momentum to jump over the top rope. As he landed, he narrowly missed Christian, but leaned down and picked him up by the back of his shirt. Lilka, still sitting, motioned for two more microphones, and got up, handing them to Christian and Matt Hardy.  
   "God's sakes, Christian, what'll it take for you to withdraw your resignation?" Edge asked, a touch of desperation creeping into his voice. "Do you want to beat me up? Break me in half? Run me over? What will it take?"  
Christian said nothing, still staring at the ground.  
   Lilka joined in. "Or do you want bigger payroll…'cause Ric's offered. 'Anything to keep him here', to be precise. You want a tag-team title match with Lance Storm against the champs? Anything, Chris, anything!" Lilka said, the first touch of emotion, desperation, creeping into her voice.  
   Edge went over and grabbed Christian from Matt, staring into his brother eyes, which to his amazement were misty with unshed tears. "What do you want, Christian?" he asked quietly, not using the microphone.  
   Christian suddenly shrugged him off, stepping backwards, almost running into Matt Hardy. "What do I want, Edge?" he repeated. He broke off, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.  
   "What do you want?" Matt hissed into his ear, telling Christian exactly what he wanted.  
   Christian raised his eyes to meet his brothers'. "Edge. I want you." A gasp went up from the crowd. "In a match against Regal." Christian continued. "Hardcore rules, no DQ."  
   Edge raised his eyebrows. "Done."  
   "For the Intercontinental Championship."  
   Edge nodded.  
   "You lose, I'll come back to the WWF."  
   Lilka raised an eyebrow this time.  
   "You win…let's just say there'll be two 'You think you know me's' in the WWF again." Christian dropped the mike, and turned to face Matt Hardy. Matt raised the mike for the first time, and spoke into it.  
   "Edge wins…" he said as if pondering the statement. "Edge wins, I suppose me and Jeff'll have **another** freakin' tag-team breathing down our necks." Matt pressed the mike into Christian's chest and slid baseball-style under the bottom rope and landed feet first on the concrete, walking quickly to backstage. Christian looked back at Lilka, and looked up to look his brother in the eye, before rolling under the ropes and exiting.  
  


  
   Matt Hardy stood backstage with Jeff, watching the match. On screen, Regal had just entered, and Edge was now beating the living daylights outta him.  
   "You think we might have Edge and Christian back again?" Jeff muttered under his breath. Matt barely nodded; the two brothers knew each other well enough to practically read each other's mind.  
   "I think so," he said, absent-mindedly pulling out and doing up his ponytail. "I'm going to get a drink," he quickly told Jeff, as he watched Edge go down and Regal smirk in that annoying way of his. Little surprise for him, he thought.  
  
  
   Edge grunted as Regal connected again with his ribs. Who the hell made this match hardcore rules? Oh yeah, little Chrissie. At least Regal hadn't gotten to the damn…brass knuckles in his hand. Oh, shit.  
  
  
   Matt stole quietly down the aisle; pretty sure that even JR hadn't noticed the black shadow sneaking down. He stopped, barely two metres from around the ring. He counted to three, just when Edge was getting up and Regal was admiring the knuckles on his hand, and ran to the ring with his steel chair. He could hear cheers and whistles from the crowd, and he could hear King yelling about how 'Edge was going to get it now', but he paid no attention. No, he was focused on one participant, and that person only. He jumped up, Edge staying back but Regal stepping forward. Regal smiled, and reached out a hand as if they were friends. Matt reached out too, and grabbed Regal's outstretched one. He lost his smile, and swung the chair one-handed. It connected, not enough to put the man down, but enough to daze him. Matt quickly adjusted his grip, and lifted it over his head, bringing it down point-blank. Regal hit the ground, blood pouring from a gash on his head. Matt lost the chair, and motioned for Edge to come over to pin. Edge came over cautiously, rather as if approaching a temperamental Rottweiler, and covered Regal.  
   One.

   Two. 

   Three.  
   "Your winner and new Intercontinental Champion, Edge!"


End file.
